


bound

by droseth



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Soul Bond, extremely pre-fair game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22894819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droseth/pseuds/droseth
Summary: What sort of luck is it, to become an orphan but find your soulmate?
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ey yo, what's up I do NOT know what I'm doing  
> I have had three meltdowns this week and it's Tuesday babey, have a fic  
> title is a work in progress  
> this is a part of 'verse which I hope to continue but this is all I got for now, and I can't keep on keeping my shit to myself self so have at it  
> this is the second time I've published any thing to any site (I think), so judge accordingly, I guess

Qrow is fourteen years old and angry at the world. His shitty semblance is being blamed for another ruined raid, which is pure Grimmdust. It's _not_ his fault this time, Qrow was nowhere near the incident, but he _still_ gets blamed.

So now Qrow's stomping through the woods near the camp, fuming. There's a spot that he and Raven found not long ago, a clearing hidden in a tangle of brambles and stunted trees. It's their secret place, which is not so secret, it seems.

There's a kid in the clearing. Qrow doesn't recognise him - he's not from the tribe, but he doesn't even look like he's from Mistral.

He's got his legs tucked into his chest, face pressed to his knees and arms wrapped around them. Even from here, Qrow can see the way his shoulders are shuddering with silent sobs.

"What are you doing here?" Qrow snaps, and winces at his tone. He didn't mean to sound quite that harsh. 

The kid's head snaps up, and it's clear he's been crying. Is _still_ crying actually, as he scrubs at his face.

"'m waitin'," the kid says, looking like he's trying to make himself even smaller, even as he sets his jaw. "Leave m' alone."

"You can't stay here," Qrow says. Gods, he just wanted to mope in _his_ hiding spot, not deal with some snotty brat.

"I'm _waiting,_ " the kid insists, wiping his gross snotty nose on his sleeve. "I gotta wait f' Ma. Aun’ie Yl’ says she’s not coming back, but she promised. She promised she'd be back _today_ and I always meet her at the gate, so I gotta make sure she gets back okay _._ "

Qrow listens to the kid's spiel with a sinking feeling in his gut. 

He walks over to the kid, kneeling beside him as the boy tries to shrink away. Qrow sighs, and gently puts a hand on the kid's back.

"Listen, kid," he starts to say, but he cuts himself off with a gasp. 

The clearing and the surrounding forest disappear, and suddenly Qrow is in the middle of a city. The sky is grey with smog, and buildings made of steel and stone tower over them. The kid’s tucked himself just inside the entry of an alleyway that has a clear view of huge a gateway. It must have been stunning once, but that was a long time ago - what had been smooth polished metal is now pitted with rust and weather damage.

It’s also completely unfamiliar to Qrow, who scrambles backwards in shock. He hits the opposite wall of the alley, scrabbling at the worn brick for a few seconds.

“What the – _where am I?!_ ”

The kid blinks at him, sniffing a bit as he uncurls, body relaxing in his confusion. “We’re at the Eas’ Gate. Are you okay?”

The East Gate, Qrow thinks. East Gate of _what?_

When he asks the kid, his face scrunches up. “The Eas’ Gate of _Man’le_ , dummy. D’you hit your head or somethin’?”

 _Mantle??_ That’s in – that’s in fucking _Solitas?_ How is that even possible – he was just in Mistral. Qrow could feel his chest heaving as he struggled for breath, but he couldn’t stop the panic. _What the fuck was happening._

Someone grabs his hands, pulls them away from where Qrow had been clutching at his hair. _Oh_ , he thinks distantly, _right, the kid._ He thinks the kid might be saying something, but Qrow’s too caught up in the tangle of his spiralling thoughts to pay any attention.

As quick as the panic came, it eases. It’s not gone, not entirely, but enough that Qrow can breathe again, get his head back into some sort of order. He blinks, swallowing reflexively, and stares at the kid now sprawled in front of him.

He must have fallen, though Qrow didn’t notice. The kid’s chest is heaving and his eyes are wide with an echo of Qrow’s panic, but he seems otherwise unharmed.

They stare at each other for a long moment, silence stretching out.

“Do you – do you wanna hug?”

“What,” Qrow says.

The kid flushes a bit under Qrow’s judgemental gaze. “Y-you seemed really upset, an’ my Aun’ie always gives me a hug when I’m upset so I thought maybe _you_ wanna hug.”

“…Do _you_ want a hug?”

“Yes,” the kid mumbles. His eyes well up a bit too, which he tries to hide by rubbing at them with his hand.

Qrow isn’t usually in the business of giving hugs to children, especially strange ones like this one, but…

He’s feeling a bit fragile himself right now, and _Gods_ , when was the last time he got a hug from _anyone?_

Qrow doesn’t say any of this, just holds his arms out in invitation. The kid launches himself at Qrow, arms latching around his neck and face buried in his shoulder. Qrow huffs in amusement, patting the kid’s back hesitantly.

“So, since we’re uh – hug-buddies now, what’s your name kiddo?”

The kid mumbles something unintelligible into his shoulder.

“What?”

The kid rubs his nose on Qrow’s shoulder, to Qrow’s ill-suppressed disgust, before pulling back.

“I’m _Clover_ , dummy. Who’re you?”

Clover, huh. Well, at least he had a name for the kid now. Not that he’ll use it.

“My name’s Qrow, kid.”

The kid turns, sliding down to sit tucked into Qrow’s side. “Will you wait for Ma with me, Mr. Qrow?”

Qrow snorts at that. “Just Qrow, kid. And –” he hesitates. He doesn’t know how he got here, barely knows where _here_ actually is. But someone has to be looking for Clover, and once they find him, maybe they can help Qrow too. “Sure kid, I’ll wait with you. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

The kid – Clover, Qrow reminds himself – is happy to chatter away with minimal input, turning now and then to check the gate. Qrow hums in response, making vague sounds of interest as necessary.

Qrow lets his head tip back to rest against the wall behind him. Gods, he’s tired – between the raid, the panic, and the kid, Qrow’s exhausted. He lets his eyes drift shut, still humming at random even as Clover’s chatter devolved into yawns. It’s not long before they’re both asleep, slumped against each other.

* * *

It’s twenty minutes later that the two are found.

“Clover! _Clo_ , where are you?”

A faunus woman hurries down the street towards the gate, wolf ears twitching at every sound. Her voice is thick with tears and her eyes are red, though dry. Some of the other people on the street eye her warily, looking away when she snarls at them.

She darts into each alley as she comes to them, scanning them swiftly before moving on.

“Clover – Oh!” Ylva stops, stunned, at the sight of her adopted nephew asleep in an alleyway, curled into the side of another boy. A boy who appears to be made entirely of transparent red light. Cautiously, she walks over to them and attempts to touch the shoulder of the unfamiliar boy. Attempts, because her hand passes right through him, form flickering briefly before settling.

She has more success when she touches Clover’s shoulder, gently shaking him awake.

“Aun’ie Yl?”

“Hey there sweetheart,” she whispers, running a hand through his hair. Her breath catches in her throat, the relief at finding him choking her. “It’s time to go home now, I’ve been worried sick.”

“Mmm, okay,” Clover says, voice thick with sleep, and lets Ylva scoop him up. She grunts with the effort – he really is getting too big for this.

“Do you want to say bye to your friend?”

“Bye Mr. Qrow,” he mumbles, already falling asleep again on her shoulder.

 _Mr. Qrow_ , Ylva muses, though he looks to be hardly more than a child himself. She stops at the entrance to the alleyway, turning back to see the sleeping teen’s form flicker and vanish.

She shakes her head, a bittersweet mix of joy and grief caught in her chest. To be visited by your soulmate when you haven’t yet met in person is a sign of the bond’s strength – but involuntary visiting only happened when one of the bonded was in serious distress.

“Oh Clo,” she murmurs. _Only six years old. What sort of luck is it, to become an orphan but find your soulmate?_

Clover sniffles against her shoulder, sound asleep. Ylva sighs, pressing her face to his hair. She will not cry. She’s shed her tears. Now, she has a responsibility – to Brier, to Toko, to _Clover_.

“Let’s get us home.”

* * *

It’s dark when Qrow wakes up, and he blinks at the night sky for a few long seconds. Then his memory catches up to him, and he startles upright.

He’s back in Mistral, back in his and Raven’s hiding spot.

He rubs his head, messing up his hair – though, with his nap in the dirt, it couldn’t get any more messed up. Was it – was it all a dream? The kid, the city? Was any of it real?

 _No_ , Qrow thinks, _it couldn’t be. You fell asleep and had some weird dreams, that’s all._

He pushes himself to his feet, doing his best to brush off the dirt, and starts heading back to camp. He’s been gone at least a few hours now, so the others might’ve cooled off a bit if nothing else.

 _Weird dreams_ , he muses, already dismissing them, _but not the worst._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toko and Brier are Clover's birth mothers (Brier is his trans-mother, which I hope is self-explanatory and also okay) and yes they are dead and yes I am overly attached to them despite the condition that I am presenting them in.  
> I could talk about the family I have created for Clover in this au for ages, but if I get it together I can talk about them in fiction, so.  
> I am also obsessed with creating lore for how soulmates/matching occurs in this verse so catch me info dunping in future installments probably


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome reader, distinguished, depraved, desperate for content  
> I wrote more. honestly, I'm probably the most surprised here.
> 
> I will warn you, this is like, nearly entirely OC content, so sorry if you aren't into that.  
> Also, uh, discussion of death and grief? if you wish to be warned of that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and I hope that this is coherent. I do not have a beta reader. I cried while writing, which might because I'm too damn attached to these OCs, or because I'm stressed as hell. Who knows.

Qrow doesn’t tell anyone about the weird dream. Who would he tell anyway? Nobody wants to listen to him normally, except Raven. And Raven would only mock him if he told her.

So he keeps it to himself and life goes on. He grows, he fights, he learns.

And if at night he dreams about the kid sometimes, well that's Qrow's business.

\--

Clover tells anyone who will listen about his cool friend Qrow, and the awesome adventure dreams he has about them. It worries and amuses Ylva in equal measure.

Clover  _ adores _ Qrow, excitedly re-enacting (and likely exaggerating) the grand tales Qrow tells him for Ylva and his grandfather, Shima Ebi. Everything is  _ Qrow-this _ and  _ Qrow-that _ , and it’s adorable, really, but Ylva is scared. 

Her soul matches were only ever partial, limiting what was shared between her and her partners. Is dream-sharing normal? What does it mean that they’re happening? Are they even shared or does Clover just have an active imagination? 

Listening to the stories, and doing what research she can, Ylva’s inclined to believe they’re real. Information is limited, but she was able to find proof of a Branwen tribe in Mistral. While the tales Clover tells her are third-hand at best, and made-up at worst, she can’t deny that there are at least some parallels that can be drawn. There’s no mention of a ‘Qrow’ in the reports she finds, but he’s young, and it’s not like there are many other names mentioned either.

It worries her, but she keeps quiet. It makes Clover happy, and happiness is in short supply at the moment.

It's been six months since Brier officially went missing. Six months since Ylva felt Brier die through their bond. The range of their bond usually wasn't large enough to extend past the city limits, but Ylva had felt Brier's fear and panic like they had been standing next to each other.

Ylva had felt her despair and resignation, had felt her surprise when Brier realised the bond had opened, felt her determination and sorrow and love.

They had only ever been able to Share emotions through the bond, but that day, for the first and last time, Ylva had heard Brier in her mind, in her  _ soul. _

_ I'm sorry,  _ Brier had said, voice hoarse.  _ I love you. Look after Clover. I love you. _

And then the bond  _ shattered,  _ and Ylva had bitten her lip bloody to stop herself screaming as her aura broke in sympathy.

Ylva had never had a bond break before, not like this. The diagnosis of abrupt bond severance syndrome shouldn’t have been a surprise - she was a doctor herself, by the gods, she should have seen the signs - and yet it was. Even six months later, her aura wasn’t fully regenerated, and would likely never recover. Her semblance didn’t seem to be affected, as far as she could tell, but she hadn’t used it much. 

She did her best to get up and keep moving, for Clover if nothing else. But sometimes the grief and the emptiness from the bond felt like it would swallow her whole. 

Shima, the old busybody, had packed up their things and moved Clover and Ylva into his own house. He’d fussed over them, all but bullying Ylva into agreement. He had spouted a bunch of trite about ‘needing his family in his old age’, and ‘wanting to spend time with his grandson before he passed’.

Ylva wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t his family, not really. Brier had been his daughter-in-law, not Ylva, though Ylva and Toko had gotten along well enough. As for his age, she had never been able to confidently guess, but he couldn’t have been older than 65. 

But Ylva let him move her and Clover. She needed help, and Clover needed what family he had left.

So for nearly six months, they’ve lived in the Ebi house. Ylva’s in the guest room, while Clover is in his mother’s childhood room. Ylva's parents and brothers come around and help when they can, though her brothers are busy with their own lives. Friends and well-wishers come by as well, more than she expected. She forgets, sometimes, how much people cared for her and Brier, and for Toko as well, even though she passed when Clover was born.

It’s a bright, clear Saturday when Shima declares he’s going to take Clover fishing. Clover is, of course, thrilled. He loves fishing with his Jiji. Part of it is a genuine interest in the activity, but Shima and Ylva both know he loves the stories that Shima tells while they are out on the water. 

Ylva waves them off with a smile and a sigh. She’s started working at the clinic again, and paperwork doesn’t disappear by itself.

She lets herself get absorbed in the work - there’s a lot to catch up on. Ylva isn’t the only doctor at the clinic, but she’s been there for nearly ten years now, and is (was?) one of the best surgeons they had. Gnawing at her lip, Ylva stares at her fingers and focuses. Luminous, transparent scalpel blades appear at the tips, flicker, stabilise. Already she can feel the strain. Is it more than it used to be? Is she tired and out of practice, or has her ability to control her semblance been permanently damaged?

_ I don’t know,  _ she admits to herself, dismissing the blades with the shake of her hand.  _ But I might have to stick to  _ physical  _ scalpels until I do. _

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. Ylva doesn’t think anything of it until she opens the door. She can’t stop her ears from flattening against her head, though she does manage to suppress the snarl that tries to curl her lip.

“Xanthia.”

The woman on the doorstep winces, the motion pulling at the newly healed scars that mar her jawline, stretching under her shirt collar. 

“It’s Thea, please,” her voice is quiet and rough. “Can I come in?”

Ylva stares for a long moment. It’s been a while since she’s seen Thea, and the first time she’s seen any of Brier’s family or team since Brier died. Thea looks rough. Her once long, blonde hair has been shorn short, and she looks exhausted and frail. She steps aside silently, allowing Thea to follow her inside.

The silence stretches out between them as Ylva leads Thea to the kitchen, preparing tea for the two of them while Thea sits. She nods in thanks when Ylva sets a cup before her.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “You… remembered how I take my tea.”

Ylva sets her cup down with more force than necessary, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I remember how  _ Brier _ takes her tea.”

Ah, of course. Thea’s eyes drop to the table. For all their differences in appearance, Thea and Brier had had similar tastes in many things. Tea was one of them.

Ylva sighs, the fight draining out of her as quickly as it came. 

“Why are you here Thea?”

Thea takes a deep fortifying breath, though it shudders when she exhales.

“I’m here to apologise,” she says. She stares at Ylva’s hands. They’re easier to face than those piercing yellow eyes. “As both the leader of Team XNTH, and as Brier’s family.”

Tears are welling up in Thea’s eyes, but she forges on, hands clenched tightly on the table. 

“As the leader of Team XNTH, I should never have led us into that fight - we’re a  _ subdue and capture _ team. Even so, B-Brier shouldn’t have been the one to stay behind. I’m the  _ leader _ \- first in, last out. I should have overridden her. It’s my fault she’s dead. I broke my promise.

“As Brier’s cousin, I’m sorry that they wouldn’t allow you to attend the memorial.” She’s getting worked up, Thea knows this. She needs to calm down, but  _ gods _ , she is furious at the - the  _ disrespect  _ of it.

“It’s - it’s fucking  _ garbage _ that they would even  _ have  _ a memorial and not have you and Clover there! Brier left the family years ago, for - for exactly this kind of behaviour towards you and, and it’s like they never learnt  _ anything _ . I’m so sor-”

“Stop,” Ylva says, putting her hand over Thea’s. Tears fall unchecked down Thea's face. Thea's breath hitches in her throat, trying to suppress her sobs. 

"It's not your fault," Ylva says. Her hand tightens around Thea's when she goes to protest. "No, let me talk."

She gathers herself, searching for the words. This was not a conversation Ylva thought she would be having today, but here they were.

"I don't blame you for Brier's death," she says. "We both know how stubborn and damn  _ self-sacrificing  _ she is -  _ was _ . I - I Shared her last moments. She was the only one who could have held them off at that point. She knew  _ exactly  _ what she was doing when she made you leave.

“As for the memorial, well,” Ylva snorts and lets go of her to lean back, waving a hand dismissively. “That is most definitely  _ not _ your fault. You aren’t a Hanley, so I can’t imagine they’d listen to you anyway, if they even asked you in the first place. 

“I forgive you for her death, and the memorial, not because I blame you but because you need to hear it.” She pauses, breathing measured. 

“I don’t - I don’t know if I'll ever be able to forgive you for leaving her behind though.” Ylva’s hands clench against the wood of the table. She’s briefly glad that she didn’t get claws like some of her brothers. Shima’s table would be ruined if she had. 

“You promised me -  _ us,  _ that you would bring her home. I knew that one day you might bring back a body instead, but you - you broke that promise and I  _ can’t forgive that _ . Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Thea swallows, wrapping her hands around her now cooling mug. "I- I understand. I know you probably want nothing to do with me - 

“Don’t be foolish,” Ylva snaps. “Maybe I’ll be able to forgive you in time, maybe not, but I’m not going to cut you out. Clover… he doesn't have much family, blood family, down here in Mantle. You’re one of the good ones, and you’ll always be welcome here, understood?”

Thea nods, throat too thick for words. Ylva gets up when she tries to discreetly wipe at her face, putting a box of tissues on the table. It’s silent while they collect themselves. Ylva gets pours more tea, puts a plate of too sweet sugar cookies that Clover prefers.

“There's one more thing,” Thea says, breaking the silence at last. She picks up the pack that she had brought in with her. Ylva hadn’t paid any attention to it before, but eyed it curiously as Thea placed it on the table.

“You know that - that the rescue and retrieval teams weren’t able to find Brier’s remains.” Thea does her best not to flinch at Ylva’s grim nod, though she’s not sure how successful she is. 

She opens the case. “They were, however, able to recover this.”

Ylva sucks in a breath as Thea pulls out a familiar weapon.

“ _ Thorn’s Blessing _ ,” she whispers. Her hand hovers over the barbed lash, but Ylva withdraws without touching it. Her gaze is full of questions when she meets Thea’s eyes.

“Why…?”

“If anyone should have this, it’s you and Clover.  _ You _ were Brier’s family, you and Toko. As leader of Team XNTH, I am here to release her effects into your care. I couldn’t bring her home, but I can give you her Blessing.”

Ylva wept. 

\---

It’s getting dark when Clover and Shima return, empty-handed as usual. Thea is long gone, though she promised to return. Clover is full of stories, and Ylva tuts over his sunburned face and shoulders.

Shima doesn’t mention the whip that now sits on the mantelpiece, wrapped around the pearl comb his daughter had so favoured. 

“Welcome home,” he murmurs, touching his fingertips to the handle of the whip and comb in turn. 

He listens to the sounds of Clover chattering in the bathroom, and Ylva’s amused exasperation as she tries to clean him up. He doesn’t know what happened while they were gone, but something has eased in Ylva. The grief still weighs heavy on her, but a sickness that was festering in her heart has been lanced. 

Perhaps now, she can start to heal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC notes -   
> Ylva Steele - Clover's adopted aunt, and currently unofficial guardian. Wolf faunus. Works as a doctor in Mantle.   
> She was in a poly relationship with Toko Ebi and Brier Hanley, where Brier was the 'hinge' between Toko and Ylva. Ylva was soul-matched with Brier, which formed as an empathic bond and allowed them to Share emotions. She now suffers from 'abrupt bond severance syndrome' due to experiencing Brier's death through the bond.  
> Semblance is called _Blade Light_ , allowing her to create blades from her aura. 
> 
> Team XNTH - "xanthe", from Greek meaning 'blond-haired'. Originally the team was going to be called THRN (thorn) before I remembered the Colour Rule, which is sort of the theme of the team anyway.  
> Xanthia "Thea" Rampion - maternal cousin of Brier Hanley. Leader of team XNTH. Inspiration from Rapunzel.  
> Brier Hanley - Clover's trans-mother. Member of team XNTH, deceased. Used the weapon Thorn's Blessing, which included the forms of a barbed whip, a rapier-type sword, and grappling hook. Inspiration from Sleeping Beauty.  
> Unmentioned teammates are named Rhoda Nylund and Tash Juniper.
> 
> Shima Ebi - Clover's maternal grandfather.  
> Toko Ebi - Clover's birth mother. Died due to currently undisclosed complications surrounding Clover's birth. Inspiration is largely taken from A Tale of the Oki Islands, as well as a little bit of The Little Mermaid. 
> 
> That should cover everything that I think is important.

**Author's Note:**

> Toko and Brier are Clover's birth mothers (Brier is his trans-mother, which I hope is self-explanatory and also okay) and yes they are dead and yes I am overly attached to them despite the condition that I am presenting them in.  
> I could talk about the family I have created for Clover in this au for ages, but if I get it together I can talk about them in fiction, so.  
> I am also obsessed with creating lore for how soulmates/matching occurs in this verse so catch me info dunping in future installments probably


End file.
